coquette, less taken by show, less prone to set an undue value on outside excellence—­to make much of the attentions of people remarkable chiefly for so many feet of stature, des couleurs de poupee, un nez plus ou moins bien fait, and an enormous amount of fatuity—­I might yet prove a useful, perhaps an exemplary character.  But, as it was——­And here the little man’s voice was for a moment choked.

“I would have looked up at him, or held out my hand, or said a soothing word; but I was afraid, if I stirred, I should either laugh or cry; so odd, in all this, was the mixture of the touching and the absurd.

“I thought he had nearly done:  but no, he sat down that he might go on at his ease.

“’While he, M. Paul, was on these painful topics, he would dare my anger for the sake of my good, and would venture to refer to a change he had noticed in my dress.’”

* * * * *

“’And if you condemn a bow of ribbon for a lady, monsieur, you would necessarily disapprove of a thing like this for a gentleman?’ holding up my bright little chainlet of silk and gold.  His sole reply was a groan—­I suppose over my levity.

“After sitting some minutes in silence, and watching the progress of the chain, at which I now wrought more assiduously than ever, he inquired: 

“’Whether what he had just said would have the effect of making me entirely detest him?’

“I hardly remember what answer I made, or how it came about; I don’t think I spoke at all, but I know we managed to bid good night on friendly terms:  and even after M. Paul had reached the door, he turned back just to explain that he would not be understood to speak in entire condemnation of the scarlet dress.’...

“‘And the flowers under my bonnet, monsieur?’ I asked.  ’They are very little ones.’

“‘Keep them little, then,’ said he.  ’Permit them not to become full-blown.’

“‘And the bow, monsieur—­the bit of ribbon?’

“‘Va pour le ruban!’ was the propitious answer.

“And so we settled it.”

That is good; and when Lucy presents the watchguard it is better still.

“He looked at the box:  I saw its clear and warm tint, and bright azure circlet, pleased his eyes.  I told him to open it.

“‘My initials!’ said he, indicating the letters in the lid.  ’Who told you I was called Carl David?’

“‘A little bird, monsieur.’

“’Does it fly from me to you?  Then one can tie a message under its wing when needful.’

“He took out the chain—­a trifle indeed as to value, but glossy with silk and sparkling with beads.  He liked that too—­admired it artlessly, like a child.

“‘For me?’

“‘Yes, for you.’

“‘This is the thing you were working at last night?’

“‘The same.’

“‘You finished it this morning?’

“‘I did.’